


Tell Me How You Really Feel

by CrimsonCatastrophe



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Confessions, Fluff, Insecurity, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Not Beta Read, OCCD, Oneshot, Pining, Romance, Sappy, Serious!America, Still Not Over The American Revolutionary War, Tsundere!England, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonCatastrophe/pseuds/CrimsonCatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has always wondered what Alfred really thinks of him.  At a certain world meeting, he will find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me How You Really Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, which is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya.

It shouldn't have affected England as much as it did. Really, it was quite the ubiquitous occurrence, and it was not only limited to world meetings as it seemed to be an intrinsic part of the lad's personality. America was never one for tact; he was almost always blunt and spouting off whatever idiotic thought that entered that ridiculously big head of his.

_"I think that's total bullshit!"_

_"Now, your ideas will all suck. So, everyone listen to me!"_

However, the lad hadn't been truly genuine with him since those days when he was but a tiny colony. _My colony_ , England thought bitterly. America was always teasing him and, yet, seemed to leave him hanging simultaneously. He felt like a string constantly being tugged back and forth in a never-ending struggle, and England was sick of it. But, he endured it because he couldn't let America go completely. However, he had his moments when the bottled up emotions simply boiled over and had to be released, lest he go mad. And, it would seem today would be one of those days. It started out innocently enough, as it often did. 

Alfred had leaned back dangerously in his chair before smirking at Arthur and leaning forward once again. It seemed the boy was attempting to _subtly_ test the waters to find out if the stern German would chastise him for such behavior. Alfred looked like a child peeking over his shoulder to see if a parent was around before digging into the cookie jar before supper. Arthur inwardly found the action endearing since it reminded him of America's youth, and it took him back to those days when the lad was _his._ When Germany failed to respond to America's behavior and Alfred was sure he was being ever so _stealthy_ , he upped the ante so to speak. In retrospect, Germany had probably just been ignoring him, which England later wished he had followed the German's example. 

Alfred smirked triumphantly, turned his back to Germany, straddled his chair, and leaned back once again to nose through Arthur's documents that his boss had prepared for Arthur to present at the world meeting. Arthur was torn between reprimanding the lad for his childish, improper behavior and wishing that Alfred was straddling him instead of that chair. He mentally berated himself for ungentlemanly thoughts and almost allowing himself to become jealous of a chair. 

"Hehe, so that's your plan, old man?" Alfred asked with that teasing twinkle in his eye as that rebellious strand of hair, which always stuck up, tickled his nose. Arthur did not know if he wanted to shove the boy away to relieve the irritating tickling sensation or pull the lad closer, while burying his nose in his hair and inhaling deeply. 

"Yes. What of it, you bloody wanker," Arthur asked irritably. 

"Mine's better," Alfred said cockily, but there was something else that Arthur could not quite put his finger on in the tone of Alfred's voice. 

Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him, or maybe he just desperately wanted there to be _something_ more. He couldn't be certain anymore. Nonetheless, Arthur glared that former empire glare of his that really had no effect upon Alfred. Sometimes, he wondered if it ever had. For his part, Alfred simply stared at him with that odd little curve, which was not quite a smile nor a smirk, but rather something in between, on those plump, pink lips of his. Alfred seemed to give everything and nothing at the same time with such a look. That was what did _it_ for Arthur. 

"Can't you ever be serious for once," England yelled as he abruptly stood from his seat, slammed his fist against the solid wood of the conference room table, and glared witheringly down at Alfred. 

He narrowly avoided letting _with me_ slip out. He bit his tongue so hard that he nearly drew blood, and his eyes slightly watered. But, at least, he could assuage his injured pride with that. He was inwardly embarrassed that he had lost control of himself like that, but America always seemed to have that effect upon him. Speaking of him, Alfred just laughed and smiled goofily at him, which made his blood boil and his chest feel pleasantly warm at the same time. He could feel his face heat up with a faint blush that may or may not have been only due to his anger. 

The others would write it off as a mere annoyance, although subconsciously he knew better. Several nations turned to glance at the scene, and Germany looked rather livid that he was interrupted. However, as usual, Italy was startled by the commotion and began to whine pathetically as he waved his ever-present white surrender flag. Luckily for both of them, Germany only gave England and America a stern warning before tending to Italy's needs. The meeting predictably went on as usual after the incident. England brooded throughout its entirety, while stealing glances at America when he thought the boy was unaware. Once the meeting concluded, England stomped his way out of the meeting, but his gaze lingered on Alfred, who winked at him before turning around to continue conversing with Japan. England would spend many a sleepless night, trying in vain to decipher the meaning behind that smirk.

* * *

 

Arthur steeled himself as he took his seat for the next world meeting; he hadn't seen Alfred since the previous world meeting where the stupid git had _forced_ him to lose his composure. Arthur had arrived a couple of minutes early, as any proper gentleman should. Alfred had yet to arrive, which was typical of him. He would probably be late; Arthur frowned and continued to mentally grouse to himself about that lad's numerous faults. But, then something unexpected happened; Alfred actually leisurely _strolled_ , instead of obnoxiously barged, into the room, which meant the boy was _early_. He quickly checked his mobile to make sure it was not April Fools' Day or something, which might explain such a phenomenon. It wasn't, and England almost gaped in surprise. He discreetly pinched himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming; he wasn't. Even the normally stoic German briefly allowed a look of surprise to grace his features before his expression defaulted back to its usual stern expression. 

"Ve, America, you're usually always late to these meetings, even if they are held in your own country..." Italy began and trailed off. It was as if his brain just simply could not process such an unlikely occurrence. Judging by the incredulous expressions on the faces of many nations, it seemed several people concurred with Italy. 

"Ha-ha. Well, I decided to be serious and show up early so that I wouldn't waste anyone's time," America replied to Italy, while he gazed intently at England who looked at America as if he had just spontaneously sprouted a second head or something. 

"Well, that is unusually considerate of you, America-san," Japan said suspiciously, echoing the thoughts of many other nations. America only smiled and _quietly_ took his seat. 

England stood and stomped his way over to America. He did not know what the lad was playing at, but he wouldn't tolerate such behavior, especially in a meeting held in his own country. England didn’t say anything at first, and the two merely stared at each other like they were attempting to read each other's soul. Suddenly a look of dawning realization appeared upon England's face. The consideration of others, the practicality behind the action, the quietness... This wasn't America; it must be the lad's northern brother, whose name England couldn’t recall. 

"You," England prompted and waited for him to supply his name, which was so easily forgotten. 

"Me?" The person asked almost like it was a question with that stupid look on his face, a look that was so very _Alfred_. 

England briefly contemplated on whether or not this was Sealand pulling a prank again, but that look was simply so very Alfred that England had never observed anyone who was able to entirely duplicate it. Plus, he had given Sealand a stern lecture and sent him home to watch anime and whatnot so that he would not show up uninvited to today's meeting. Lost in his thoughts, England continued to stand rooted to his spot, while simultaneously staring intently at the boy in front of him as if he hadn't seen him in an eternity. It certainly felt like it had been an eternity.

"Are you okay, England," Alfred asked with such sincerity and genuine concern in his voice that Arthur was barely able to restrain himself from fiercely clutching the lad to his chest and hugging him tightly. 

"I'm fine," England said primly. 

"Since everyone is present, England begin the opening speech since this meeting is being held in London," Germany said authoritatively. 

"Yes, of course," England muttered distractedly and turned on his heel to retrieve the documents that he was supposed to present. 

England made his way to the podium, cleared his throat, and began his speech. America's gaze lingered upon the Brit throughout the entirety of it, and England was baffled that America was actually listening to someone other than himself. Secretly, he felt a small thrill run up his spine at the thought that it was _him_ that America was devoting _all_ his attention to, but he was embarrassed to admit to himself just how much the simple gesture touched him. As the meeting progressed, England found himself utterly baffled by Alfred's behavior. The boy did not interrupt the meeting even once, nor did he aggressively force his ideas upon others, which was typical of the lad's fist-first philosophy. England did not know what to make of the boy's sudden change in demeanor, but Arthur vowed to himself that he would get answers as soon as the meeting concluded. 

When everything on the day's agenda had been discussed, England politely thanked everyone for coming and dismissed everyone. Several nations quickly gathered their belongings and rushed to leave, while others lingered to chat casually amongst themselves, much to Arthur's chagrin. America leisurely gathered his things and began happily chattering on to Japan about some video game. England sent the pair a concealed glare as he impatiently waited for everyone to leave so that he could give that lad the what for. _Finally_ , he thought when the last of the stragglers vacated the premises and cursed when he noticed America and Japan making their way back to their hotel rooms. Arthur briskly walked, _not_ ran, down the corridor to catch up to the pair. 

"Pardon the interruption, but I need to have a word with America. It's urgent," England said brusquely to Japan, while simultaneously reaching out and grabbing America's shoulder. 

America turned around swiftly and appeared briefly startled by the sudden contact, but he relaxed once he saw that it was England. Japan, wisely reading the atmosphere and observing the forced politeness and tension in England's demeanor, excused himself with a quick bow and softly spoken parting pleasantries to the two English-speaking nations. America looked at England expectantly, and England blushed and quickly withdrew his hand when he realized that it was still clutching America's warm shoulder. 

"You okay, England; did something bad happen? You said it was urgent," America asked with what England thought was concern in his voice as his eyes roved over England's body as if checking him for injuries. 

"You, what in the bloody hell are you playing at?" England asked less eloquently than he had intended. 

"You mean with Japan? Well, Japan got this new horror role-playing video game that he asked if I wanted to beta test with him. Dude, it sounds so cool! Japan has some of the best games," America gushed. 

England's massive brows furrowed, and he frowned at America. He was torn between being annoyed with the lad's denseness or being relieved at the normality that such obliviousness elicited. A coil of jealousy lodged itself in the pit of his stomach as America continued to enthusiastically rave about the quality of Japan's games. It was not like his country did not have superior games; of course America never praised his games like that. He typically called them boring, but in actuality, they were just too advanced for someone like America who possessed a shorter attention span than that of an inebriated gnat. 

"No, you thickheaded imbecile! Don't think I haven't noticed your recent change in behavior. If I didn't know better, I would think you were actually acting maturely and being serious for once, you insufferable git," England said accusingly with annoyance bleeding into his tone. 

"You noticed? Awesome!" America said excitedly and fist pumped the air, while conveniently glossing over the blatant insult. 

"Of course, I bloody well noticed. What with your thinking before speaking and having patience instead of demanding instantaneous gratification, I find it all highly suspicious," England rambled on as if he had difficulty articulating his numerous thoughts. 

"Hehe, due to certain circumstances, I thought I should get serious," America said evasively as a delicate pink blush graced his face. 

"And, what pray tell brought on such an epiphany?" England asked incredulously, while fixing the lad with a calculating expression. 

"Someone, who is very wise and whose opinion I admire above all else, excluding my own of course, told me to get serious and think before I do something because instant gratification could lead to horrendous ramifications later on in time," Alfred said as his blush deepened, while he studiously avoided looking directly into England's eyes. 

Arthur's eyes widened almost to the size of teacup saucers at the admission, and surprise openly flickered in his expression for an ephemeral moment as a memory from a prior world meeting tickled his consciousness. He remembered losing his composure and telling the lad to get serious, but he never believed Alfred would even take his feelings into consideration let alone act upon them. Arthur felt his face heat up, and he felt a lump form in his throat from repressed emotions. _Would Alfred really do something like that for him?_ Arthur had always been of the opinion that Alfred had lost all respect and whatever other positive emotions that he may have felt for Arthur after Alfred's stupid, bloody revolution. His breath hitched at the thought of that horrid event, and he only caught the tail end of Alfred's last sentence, as he realized the boy had been chattering on about something while he was lost in his thoughts. 

"... my boss will notice." 

_Ah, yes, of course. Now it all made sense. Alfred's boss must have demanded that America get serious, and he finally decided to listen to him. I should have known better than to even think to entertain the thought that such a bloody ungrateful git would ever care about me, unless of course he has something to gain from it. Then, he will abandon me out of the blue without even having the common decency to tell me why once he gets what he wants, the sodding wanker._

"Well, I am glad you finally found someone who could get that advice to sink through that thick skull of yours," England said passively-aggressively and feigned surprise that America could actually act maturely in order to mask the bitter disappointment that he felt. 

_You should have known better than to hope, Arthur. After all, hope is wasted on the hopeless._

"Hehe, yeah. Plus, even if he doesn't notice, you did and..." Alfred began to say, but he was cut off by Arthur's ramblings. 

"Heaven knows, I have attempted to impart that same lecture upon you countless times," England muttered rancorously, as his gazed shifted to the side to avoid America potentially seeing the hurt in England's eyes because the thought of America finding someone important and actually listening to that someone instead of England hurt Arthur immensely. 

_Even when you do something reasonable, you still hurt me. I know it's stupid, but was it really so much to ask for the one you care about most to reciprocate your feelings? Apparently, where Alfred is concerned, it is._

"Exactly," Alfred smiled with genuine warmth and affection. He gently turned England's face so that Alfred could gaze into Arthur's eyes. England was jolted into conscious awareness when he felt the warmth of Alfred's strong, slightly calloused fingers gripping his face, and Arthur felt his heart skip a beat at the implications of such a declaration. 

"Y-You," England spluttered as he attempted to voice his disbelief and the numerous questions his mind conjured in the seconds upon hearing America say such a thing. 

A flicker of hope blossomed in Arthur's chest, although he steeled himself for mockery and rejection, even though he could find no insincerity in Alfred's eyes. England knew America was not a very good actor; America's movies served as supporting evidence to bolster said allegation. England had left so many scathing criticisms on them that it eventually became a hobby of his. However, he just couldn't bring himself to believe Alfred's words, even though he desperately wanted to. When Arthur failed to respond, Alfred really looked at Arthur and frowned when he noticed the pained, yet hopeful expression upon his face and the struggle in his eyes. And, in that rare moment of clarity, Alfred could truly see how much he _had_ hurt and was _still_ hurting Arthur; it broke his heart. 

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you," Alfred said earnestly. And, what Arthur found so disarming about that lad was that he really was sorry and meant every word of it. 

_Oh, Alfred, I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hurt you either; I just wanted you to stay. Everyone always leaves me; no one ever stayed, unless I forced him or her. I never wanted you to revolt; I just wanted you to be dependent on me so that you would have to stay with me because I loved you. I still love you, Alfred._

"You bloody well should be,'' England said and fidgeted in his spot because of the restrained urge to latch himself onto Alfred and never let him go again, _ever_. 

Luckily for Arthur, Alfred was infamous for his lack of restraint, which was demonstrated when Alfred suddenly wrapped both of his strong arms around Arthur and hugged him tightly. Arthur felt his eyes mist over with unshed tears, and he buried his face in the crook of Alfred's neck, while inhaling deeply as he hesitantly returned the embrace. He had wanted this for _so_ long, and now after centuries of heartache, he felt a pure lightness in his chest that he hadn't experienced since the days when that young colony would gleefully embrace him when he visited all those years ago. Because he was a _gentleman_ , he _did not_ cry; he just had something in his eye, which Alfred kissed away. 

"Get off me, you great oaf. Public displays of affection of this magnitude are ungentlemanly," England groused for appearances' sake, even though he made no attempt to pull away. 

His fingers dug deeply into the soft, worn leather of Alfred's cherished bomber jacket, and he desperately molded himself to Alfred, who surprisingly, correctly read the atmosphere and snuggled the Brit closer. They eventually made their way back to England's London home, and later that night, Alfred and Arthur slept happily wrapped in each other's arms. After that night, America and England would become more united in global politics, shared culture, military defense, mutual respect, etc. Alfred and Arthur would become inseparable, connected by a red string of fate and a love that knows no bounds and was as immortal as they were.


End file.
